


Variants

by StarTravel



Series: Begin Again [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Brief suicidal ideation, Depression, Flashbacks, Genetic Engineering, Moral Dilemmas, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: With his once promising future growing dimmer by the day, Julian knows he has a choice to make. He just wishes he knew which was the right one.





	Variants

Julian stares out into his temporary quarters, the sheen of the white walls highlighting just how bare they truly were. There are no paintings along the wall, no collection of photos and old recordings to remind him of Miles or Jadzia or other names Julian pretends he never knew. Their faces are locked into his memory whether he wants them to be or not, each sunlit smile and wry gaze as fresh in his memory as the first day he saw them. Julian can’t escape them even though he hasn’t seen most of them in over a year, conversations they had nearly a decade ago still fresh in his mind. 

It’s not fair. Julian should be able to forget. But he can’t because he’s too much instead of being just enough. Inhuman. 

Julian can remember a flash of a smile, quick and predatory, and a honeyed voice telling him that it was -

* * *

_“Like you’re more Cardassian than human in some ways, my dear doctor.” Garak explains with a wide smile, looking utterly delighted by this fact. Julian rolls his eyes in a way he knows seems labored, picking at his food without taking a single bite. He hasn’t had much of an appetite since his secret got out. _

_ Garak catches that and frowns just a hair, the ridges along his jaw tensing. Julian has to swallow the urge to scoff. Years of telling him he eats too fast, and now Garak’s worried he’s not eating enough? What a ridiculous, contrary man. _

_ “And what exactly does that mean, Garak?” _

_ “Just that you’re arranged rather than merely being. Purposefully shaped and positioned to what you think you should be.” Garak’s gaze shifts minutely as he speaks, a kinder look coming into his gaze, almost as though he admires Julian. Julian stiffens at that, stomach sinking. Of course. _

_ Garak is proud of his deception, the lies he’s woven over the years to protect himself from suspicion. The idea makes the tea in Julian’s mouth suddenly go sour. He will not be liked for the weight of his sins. _

_ “If that were the case, I wouldn’t half as lonely as I am right now.” Julian snaps in a voice more heated than he’d like, expression pinched. Whatever had been in Garak’s eyes before is gone now. Good. “Now did you come here for a reason, Garak, or is this just your oh so subtle way of apologizing for calling me a Vulcan earlier?” _

_ “I thought you might be interested in discussing that book you’ve been reading. You haven’t left the infirmary in hours.” _

_ Garak’s voice is pleasant and just the right level of distant, as though they haven’t missed a step in their relationship. It would be so easy to let himself be drawn in by that voice, to fall back into old familiar patterns. There’s not nearly as much to risk now; Julianwon’t jeopardize his now tarnished reputation, and Garak won’t be embarrassed by not knowing he’s an augment in front of all of his spy friends. _

_ Then Julian sees a flash of blood and the smell of cold metal and reminds himself new patterns exist for a reason. He smiles wanely at Garak. “Thank you, Garak, but I have plenty of work to get done.” _

_ “Goodbye, Doctor.” Garak’s voice has just enough regret in it that Julian considers following him out the door. But he doesn’t. _

* * *

Julian still has a few padds of his favorite novels and plays, stashed away in his duffle bag with Kukalaka. He hasn’t touched any of them in months, some in years, watching as they slowly collect layers of dust as the words start to fade into sepia colored memories. 

Garak hated all of them except Alice in Wonderland, skewering each and every passage of Hamlet and _Ethan_ _Frome_, nitpicking every choice Frodo and Aragorn made in _The Lords Of The Rings _with a scorn Julian shouldn’t have found so delightful. Garak never let him be right about anything, never let up with his playful barbs and wry smiles Julian pretended not to understand. He’d - 

But no, that was a long time ago, and Garak’s not the only one he’s discussed literature with. There’s been Ezri, with her bright eyes and shining ideals, her optimism and agreeableness like a beacon of light. Yes, there had been Ezri. 

* * *

_ Julian sighs and taps his finger alongside the edge of the table, glancing through his messages for what he’s sure must be the fifth time that morning. Nothing from Miles, nothing from Garak. The first is disappointing. The second terrifies him. There’s been rumors of plagues and radiation based illnesses on Cardassia. Not much information because God knows nothing was going to make them less secretive and -_

_ Julian feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up the warm smile and worried eyes of Ezri Dax. Yes, he supposes he’s not being the best company right now. Julian gives Ezri an apologetic smile, laying his hand over hers and giving it a quick squeeze. _ “ _ Maybe we could go visit him, the next time we have leave.” _

_ “Visit who?” Julian keeps his voice light as he takes a sip of his tea, trying to keep his expression neutral. It feels too soon to visit Miles, as much he misses him. He’s only been at his new job for a few weeks, and he doesn’t need Julian showing up and distracting him with holoprograms and darts. Better to give him at least a month. _

_ “Garak. Don’t think I didn’t notice you checking to see if you got any mail from Cardassia for the third time this week.” Ezri’s voice has a knowing quality to it, gaze twinkling as she pulls a hand back. Julian can’t help smiling sheepishly. Only a few weeks of dating, and she already knows him so well. But then, that makes sense. Dax has been one of his best friends for years. _

_ “If he’s too busy to respond to mail, he’s likely too busy to host us. I wouldn’t want to bother him.” Julian keeps his voice light, but even he can hear the distance in his voice. He and Garak had gotten … not as close as they were, but closer in the last few months before he left the station, sharing lunches and secrets again. For a while Julian had even thought … _

_ But then the war ended and Julian fell for Ezri. That’s all there was to it. _

_ “I didn’t mean we’d stay with him, we could work with the other relief doctors there. I was kind of surprised you didn’t go there in the first place.” _

_ There’s a slight scolding quality to Ezri’s voice, but also an underlying curiosity, a compassion Julian doesn’t like turned on him. He can almost hear the questions about them and Garak and why there even is a them when there’s still a Garak, and even is there was no Garak, what was he doing here when he was needed somewhere else and when he wasn’t happy? Not really. _

_ None of them are in Ezri’s voice. _

_ Julian shakes the questions off, grinning widely so that the skin around his eyes crinkles as he leans across the table. Julian takes Ezri’s hands in his own, squeezing them softly. He drops his voice half an octave, playful and flirtatious. “Why would I want to go somewhere else when I have everything I could possibly want right here?” _

_ “Julian!” Ezri laughs, a bright twinkling sound that fills the entire replimat. Julian feels his shoulders relax at the sound, a sense of contentment washing over him. Julian has loved Dax in one way or another for 7 years, and he’s sure he’s come to love Ezri separate of that as well. _

_ That he’s not in love with either yet is fine. He’ll get there. _

* * *

Julian had Ezri, but he doesn’t anymore, and he never should have in the first place. He can see that now that they’re apart, Julian breaking up with Ezri when he first got demoted and sent away from Deep Space 9. He’s known what the writing on the wall would look like since he was 15 and he wasn’t about drag Ezri down with him. 

Julian remembers Ezri insisting they needed to fight it, eyes blazing with a ferocity that reminded him more of Jadzia than her. He remembers her crying, body shaking softly against his own rigid one as she gave him wet kisses when he insisted. He remembers the way Ezri watched him climb on the runabout, smiling tightly as her eyes shone with tears. 

Julian remembers the guilt he felt for breaking her heart, and the relief that he wouldn’t ruin her life after all. 

But most of all, Julian remembers the way his heart sank when he realized he was alone again. More than anything, that made him sure he was making the right choice in letting her go. 

* * *

_ Julian feels rather than sees Garak approach him in Quark’s, the familiar, near silent pattern of his footsteps almost comforting. He knows Garak well enough to know that if he can hear them Garak wants him to. Julian turns toward the other man a half step before Garak arrives at his side, smile just a touch nervous. This wasn’t what they did. Not in a long time anyway. _

_ “Alone again, Doctor? I thought you and the Chief had plans to play another one of your little war games tonight. Something about a glorious battle?” _

_ “There are no glorious battles, Garak. Just ones that leave too many ashes in their wake.” The vehemence in his own voice surprises him. Julian hadn’t thought he had that much passion left anymore, as hollowed out and defeated as he’s felt inside lately. But maybe the fires of his youthful idealism are still there somewhere, fueled by his ever dwindling faith in his and the Federation’s ideals. _

_ Garak gives him an approving look, holding up his kanar to him as though to clink glasses. Julian holds his own drink up while glaring at Garak without any real heat. He thinks they understand each other better now and he has no idea if they’re better or worse off for it. _

_ Garak leans in just a touch too close, voice taking on a familiar slinky quality. “Aren’t you especially maudlin tonight? Is that why the Chief didn’t show up?” _

_ “He’s spending time with his children.” _

_ “Yes, nice that he’s finally doing that now that the war’s started.” Garak scoffs in clear disapproval, the ridges around his eyes visibly tightening. Julian swallows the urge to defend his friend, taking a long sip of his drink instead. He knows this isn’t about Miles so much as Garak’s specific ideas about how families should behave, his own notwithstanding. Julian wonders idly what Garak would think of his parents. Garak’s face relaxes, voice honeyed and slick. “You could ask someone else.” _

_ “Well, strangely enough, Garak, no one else wants to pretend to fight against holographic enemies while we’re in the middle of a real war.” Julian lets out a short laugh, shoulders shaking a little as he leans against the bar. He probably shouldn’t keep playing the Alamo or the World War programs anymore. Julian feels a little more empty each time he enters one, the old thrill of the game replaced with a hollowed feeling and memories from the battlefield he wishes were more hazy. _

_ Garak gives him an appraising look, gaze flicking across his expression. Something almost relieved comes into his eyes as he leans in, hand pressed against his elbow just a touch too gently to be a proposition. No, the look in Garak’s gaze is far closer to worry and Julian flushes in embarrassment. He’s not someone people worry over. He’s meant to be perfect. “You could do something else. You used to read.” _

_ “I used to do a lot of things.” _

_ Julian can’t stop the wistfulness in his voice as he pushes past Garak, ignoring the cry of ‘doctor’ that follows him down the hall. When he arrives in his quarters he collapses on his couch, boneless and heart racing, though he’s not entirely sure why. Julian brushes his hand over a padd, a new translation of the Odyssey he picked up recently. _

_ He thinks about Garak. Then he calls Dax. _

* * *

Julian sighs wistfully a little at the memory, gaze flicking down to his bag. Yes, he used to do a lot of … frivolous, dangerous things when he was younger. Hours that totaled _ months _ he wasted on arguing about literature with Garak or flitting around the holosuite with Miles fighting imaginary wars, while all the while a real one slowly came into focus around them. 

Julian feels cool metal brush against his fingers, and lets out a laugh, high and desperate in a way that would have scared anyone else in the room. But there isn’t anyone else. He made sure of that, with just a little help from Section 31. 

* * *

_ “How was your trip to Romulus, my dear doctor? As exciting as you hoped it would be?” Garak asks as he sets his tray down on the table with a smirk, gaze caught between smugness and sympathy. Julian meets his gaze with a dry one of his own, though he’s not quite able to hide the anger pulsing through him when he speaks, voice sharp and rising on each octave. _

_ “I take it you already know the answer to that question.” _

_ Garak gives him a raised eyeridge at that, something almost akin to a smile blossoming across his face. It’s only the look in gaze, apologetic and almost piteous - or is that him projecting - that makes Julian sure Garak regrets being right more than he takes delight in being right. A true Cassandra to the end. “Yes, but I wanted to hear it in your own words.” _

_ “You were right when you warned me earlier. Happy, Garak? Section 31 is a rotting limb slowly infecting the rest of the Federation, spreading from person to person without anyone even realizing that they’re sick.” _

_ This time Julian doesn’t bother to conceal his fury, practically shouting at Garak across the table. He doesn’t especially care who hears him. Everyone else at Starfleet should know about Section 31. If any one of them made the wrong move, they could end up just like him, an unwilling chess piece in someone else’s game. Moved across the board with no idea of what his actions really meant until it was too late or until he’d been physically forced off the board like all the other pawns. _

_ Julian glances up at Garak, whose expression is carefully neutral. Garak had been such a pawn for the Obsidian Order at one point. But no, Garak hadn’t called himself a pawn. He was a tool of the State. Julian refuses to be the Federation’s tool and he wonders if that selfishness makes Garak respect him a little less than before, until he says something Julian hadn’t expected. _

_ “And what are you going to do about that, Doctor?” _

* * *

Julian lets out another laugh, shaky and filling the empty room. Yes, what was he going to do about it, Garak? What could he do about _ any _ of it? He tried to stop Section 31, naively believing that if he could just take out Sloan the rest of the organization would crumble. He sacrificed his morality for it, his belief that he would never kill anyone outside of the line of duty, let alone possibly torture someone while breaking several ethical codes by entering Sloan’s mind without permission. 

Of course, those ethical codes technically only applied to Betazoids, but Julian imagines that Starfleet Medical would still frown on him using illegal Romulan technology to force his way into a dying man’s brain. Just a hunch. 

So what has Julian won for the sacrifice of his soul? Nothing. Nothing has changed except that his once promising career is now quite the opposite. Julian is assigned to worse and more dangerous positions every few months while his research studies are either dismissed or outright forbidden. 

And the worst part is that Julian can’t do anything about it. All of his allies in Starfleet are gone. Sisko has ascended his mortal coil for God knows how long;Ezri Dax doesn't have half the clout of Jadzia, let alone Curzon; Kira had enough problems trying to keep Bajor and the Federation on good terms without him adding to it; and Miles. Miles would be implicated. Julian won’t ruin their lives to save his own. He’s not quite _ that _ selfish. 

Julian wraps his hand around the cool metal this time, thumbs running up and down switches he memorized long ago. He can practically see Garak in front of him, smile sharp and terrifying as he rebukes him for not making a choice when his options are clear. 

Julian grips the metal a bit tighter, slowly pulling the phaser free from his bag. The illusionary Garak whispering in his ear is right. His choices are obvious. He can carry on in Starfleet for as long as they let him, rank and name forgotten by most. He can go off the grid - he’s known how since he was 16 - and devote his life to bringing Section 31 down even though the odds aren’t in his favor. He has a phaser and he has his brain, absorbed a part of him doesn’t think he needs more.

The part of Julian that isn’t quite so arrogant knows that he might be genetically enhanced, but Section 31 had the numbers and the will. 

He can leave Starfleet and the life he’s built for himself - such as it is - behind, resign and go somewhere they needed medical aid and sharp minds. God knows the war created enough places that do. He could accept what he’s known about himself for years.

* * *

_Julian glances up from his research when he hears several knocks in a row on his office door, each one sounding more urgent than the last. He practically leaps to the door, expecting to find Miles wounded or Jadzia with a story about how everyone in ops has been taken out by a virus. Instead he finds Garak with a stiff smile and a slightly wan complexion, but otherwise not looking any worse for wear. “Garak, what’s wrong?” _

_ “I fear I was shot a few weeks ago, and then my friend had the audacity to skip out on our lunches for nearly a month.” Garak’s tone is conversational and quickly, but his gaze is searing as he circles Julian’s desk. He finally comes to a stop only a few inches in front of him, so close that Julian swears he can see each individual scale in the ridges along his face. _

_ Julian closes his eyes and tries to remind himself of all the reasons he decided to distance himself from Garak. it’s hard to remember them when Garak is right here in front of him, bright blue eyes filled with a hurt that Julian doesn’t think is faked for once. “Garak, if you don’t have a medical problem-“ _

_ “Tell me why you’re so afraid to be around me, Doctor? Is it because you’re worried your friends would judge you after I was so willing to leave them for dead? Because you shot me and you feel guilty, even though you didn’t hit any major organs? Because I’m proud of you?” _

_ Julian stares at him blankly, because he’s considered all those things, made lists to himself why his friendship and infatuation with Elim Garak needs to come to an end. All of those made the list, along with secrets each of them have that Julian’s sure the other suspects. But at the end of the day, none of those are the answer for why Julian’s afraid to let himself get close to Garak again, afraid to meet his gaze and see all the swirling emotions there. No, that has a much simpler answer. _

_ “Because you were right, Garak. I’m not a hero.” _

* * *

Julian stares down the mouth of the phaser, feeling strangely numb despite the hysterical laughter of a few minutes ago. He has a choice to make. He can let his life slowly continue its not so so crawl to the bottom, he can be the hero he’s always tried and failed to be, or he can leave. 

He just needs to figure out how to do the last one. Julian slides his phaser back into his bag, glancing fondly at an old book of poetry as he does.

He already knows what choice he wants to make. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and questions are loved!


End file.
